


Celestial (The With & Without You Remix)

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Introspection, Kerberos Mission, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Pre-Relationship, Pre-Season/Series 01, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:15:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: “Keith,” Shiro says and there’s something too giddy in his voice that he can’t even begin to swallow back. “Happy Birthday.”Keith finds his footing, nearly stumbling as the words reach him, and Shiro watches Keith attempt to strangle back a wide smile and fail utterly. “Thanks, Shiro. How’s space?”Shiro grins even wider.He wants to bury himself in the sound of Keith’s voice. The five months of absence strike him like that— just how deep and graveled Keith’s voice is. It’s always been so rich, so husky-soft, and it washes over Shiro like the familiarity of home.Or: Keith is billions of miles away, but Shiro still tries to imagine what it would be like if they were together in space.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 212
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	Celestial (The With & Without You Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Planemo: With(out) You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22496338) by [arcadenemesis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadenemesis/pseuds/arcadenemesis). 



> For the [sheithremix](https://twitter.com/sheithmix), I was a pinch-hitter for [Em](https://twitter.com/copilotsheith), whose work I absolutely adore and who I got to remix for the 2019 remix. 
> 
> It was so much fun to return to Em's stories, since in 2019 I struggled to pick just one fic to remix... so I got to return to a few of my other ideas! I definitely had a struggle again in picking just one idea out of my four other ideas, oops lol.
> 
> For this one, I decided to take the original fic and do a role swap/POV swap, with the fic taking place for Shiro in his spaceship (rather than Keith back on Earth). It was fun to write out those parallels that the other isn't even aware of, hehe.
> 
> Huge shout-out and thanks to Em for putting together such a great event and thanks for your patience/dedication to making sure everybody gets a fic. You deserve a dozen other remixes, but I hope this little one can be a satisfying read for you! 
> 
> Thank you to [Sharki](https://twitter.com/leftishark_) for the encouragement and brainstorming help, and to [Sana](https://twitter.com/pushclouds) and [Sarah](https://twitter.com/ailurea) for the encouragement! ♥

If not for the mandated check-ins from the Garrison, Shiro thinks that time would truly warp for him while in space. Time would pass and he wouldn’t know what days are, no sunsets to count his steps by. But no, thanks to the Garrison check-ins and chronoclocks onboard, there’s never a moment when Shiro isn’t aware of how much time has passed since he left Earth’s atmosphere.

152 days, 17 hours, 9 minutes. 

Shiro knows what day it is. He’s been looking forward to this call since the Garrison approved his personal request. The video-quality is shit but he can see Keith hovering at the back of the room, already so much taller than when Shiro last saw him. 

It’s been 152 days since he last spoke with Keith. Sure, he’s submitted his flight logs and mission report status, knowing Keith would keep an eye on such things, but it’s not the same as actually _speaking_ with his best friend. Shiro and the Holts are allowed their occasional personal messages to loved ones, but it will never be the same as a conversation. Shiro’s made sure to slip in jokes he knows only Keith will understand, a few warmed words to melt the clinical language. It’s not the same. It can’t be the same. 

It surprises Shiro sometimes how raw the ache is. He’s where he’s always wanted to be, manning a mission to the furthest reaches of their solar system, pursuing his dream. He’ll go further than any human ever will. His entire life has been working towards a mission like this and he’s pushed his body and mind as far as he could ever hope to go. It’s his dream, realized. 

And yet, sometimes, it feels like he’s still bound to Earth. With Adam, the very idea of be grounded had felt like an anchor, a cloying collar wrapped too tight around his neck to keep him earth-bound for the rest of his days. 

With Keith, it’s different. Shiro knows that he’s left a part of himself behind in that Arizona desert— and he knows Keith doesn’t even realize. With Keith, it doesn’t feel like a leash dragging him back home, but a waypoint before he can launch into the stars again. 

Keith stands there at the back of the room, shifting from foot to foot, dressed in his full uniform. The image is grainy enough that Shiro aches to lean further, to squint until he can memorize the full shape of Keith. He won’t be able to see him properly until he steps closer and the camera stabilizes. 

Shiro focuses. He answers the Garrison’s questions, running through his report with a practiced ease. It’s all routine by now and he’s only half-aware of what he’s saying as he lists through his pilot’s report. His eyes flicker to the bottom of his screen, seeing the shape of Keith. He takes strength in it. Keith is here. 

He wonders how he looks to Keith. He hopes Keith can see that he’s well, that he’s happy. He wants Keith closer so he can confirm the same. Shiro remembers that last night with Keith before launch. He remembers all the lengthy, long pauses Keith took, staring at his hands, like there was something he wanted to say but he was still summoning the urge.

It was only towards the end of the night when Keith had admitted quietly, _I’m going to miss you so much…_

He’d said it like it was a secret, like he was afraid Shiro would hate him for it. Shiro’s only response had been to pull Keith into a hug, to cradle him close and squeeze him so tight that Keith could have no space left to worry between them, the crush of their bodies its own center of gravity. 

_I’ll be back before you know it,_ he’d said then. 

Keith had snorted, a pained sound. _And then we can fly together._

Shiro had squeezed him tighter, his heart flipping at the soft note of hope in Keith’s voice. 

Keith is a dark shape on the screen and Shiro aches to see him better, to truly assess just how much he’s grown in the last five months. Mostly, Shiro just wants to see Keith, to make sure that he’s okay, that he’s taking care of himself, that he’s happy. 

Shiro reaches the end of his report and Sanda nods stiffly, all clinical assessment and lack of warmth. “Very good,” she says when Shiro confirms his status update. “Anything further to report?” 

“No, ma’am,” Shiro says. He barely holds back his smile, hopeful and sweet. “Except that I believe I made a personal request upon last contact?” 

Sanda nods stiffly. “Yes, we have acknowledged your request.” She reaches for a datapad that one of her officers holds out to her, her frown deeply etched into the lines of her face. “And while non-family is outside of our usual policy, we have made exceptions for you _again,_ given your circumstances.” 

Shiro knows that tone well. He’s well-versed in Sanda’s usual attitude towards him, her continued disgust at his imperfect existence. Sanda does little to hide her condescension. Shiro’s used to such pushback from authorities that deem him a liability. _Kill them with kindness,_ his mom always says. 

Shiro smiles what Keith always calls his _I hate you, but I refuse to show it_ smile as Sanda turns her head and calls over her shoulder: “Cadet Kogane, you may approach.” 

And finally, Keith comes closer. He moves a little stiffly but there’s no hesitation in the way he steps forward, his pace respectful and measured. Shiro feels his face light up in a true smile as Keith steps fully into the light and into direct view of the camera. 

“ _Keith_ ,” Shiro says and there’s something too giddy in his voice that he can’t even begin to swallow back. “Happy Birthday.”

Keith finds his footing, nearly stumbling as the words reach him, and Shiro watches Keith attempt to strangle back a wide smile and fail utterly. “Thanks, Shiro. How’s space?” 

Shiro grins even wider. 

He wants to bury himself in the sound of Keith’s voice. The five months of absence strike him like that— just how deep and graveled Keith’s voice is. It’s always been so rich, so husky-soft, and it washes over Shiro like the familiarity of home. 

The distance feels so vast— one point two billion kilometers with six billion more to go, but who’s counting, really. Shiro grins at the screen, his eyes tracing over Keith’s answering smile. Maybe that old cliché of _absence makes the heart grow fonder_ really is true, although Shiro can’t fathom how it is he could care for Keith more than he already does. But he can’t mistake the way his heart leaps when he sees him, properly sees him. Keith, standing before him, smiling. 

Keith. 

“Oh, you know,” Shiro says, watching Keith’s eyes sparkle. It feels like Keith is drinking him in, too. “Vast, beautiful, mysterious… Other unglamorous things.” 

Keith chuckles, glancing down, his eyelashes spanning so prettily across his cheekbones. 

“Hey, check this out,” Shiro says rather than linger on that thought, quickly adjusting his camera and undocking it from its port, carrying it as he floats over to the vast window near the reporting station. “This is my view when I woke up today.” 

He turns the camera out the window, pointing it towards the massive rings of Saturn looming on the cosmic horizon in all its stunning, magnificent glory. It’d taken Shiro’s breath away this morning, nearly made him cry to see it. It’s still breathtaking now, too. 

He’s been in space so many times, but it never stops being a wonder to him. 

“Not bad, huh?” he laughs after a moment, that same giddy feeling twisting up in his gut— the cosmos, Keith, both at once maybe. He turns the camera back towards his face. 

Keith nods, his eyes trained on Shiro. Softly, he murmurs, “Incredible.” 

Shiro wants to drink Keith in. He has the sneaking suspicion that Keith wants the same thing, but Shiro knows he can’t linger. There are too many others hovering on the periphery and Shiro’s already on borrowed time.

“Ah,” he says, “So I got you something… you know, since eighteen is kind of a big deal.”

Keith makes a face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Shiro laughs. “Obviously it’s still on Earth, though. Did anyone pick it up?”

Behind Keith, Lieutenant Hedrick steps forward with a warm smile and a package in his hand. Keith looks up at Shiro in quiet shock before he takes the wrapped parcel from Hedrick. 

“Go on,” Shiro says when Keith hesitates, staring at the package. “Open it?” 

It feels wrong, somehow, or at least weird to share this moment with all the senior officers. Shiro can see the tension in Keith’s shoulders, the way his eyes keep skittering towards them like he wishes it were just the two of them. Shiro wishes the same. He wishes that Keith were up here with him and they were celebrating Keith’s birthday together in Saturn’s backyard. He wishes he could pull Keith into a bone-crushing hug and never let go. 

He settles for watching Keith tear into the paper. He waits eagerly for Keith’s reaction. It’s a red leather jacket he picked out for Keith long before the Garrison put him in his Kerberos pre-launch quarantine, squirreling it away to be delivered to Keith on his birthday. That Shiro gets to watch Keith unwrap it makes him feel like he’s fourteen all over again, giving a Valentine’s Day card to the first boy he ever really liked. 

“I thought you needed an upgrade,” Shiro explains as Keith unfolds the leather, holding it up to study it— it’s red, Keith’s favorite color, accented with yellow stripes and a white collar. “That hoodie of yours is no good for riding, right?” 

Keith doesn’t respond or wait for permission before he starts stripping off his uniform. Shiro holds his breath, his heart spiking, watching Keith shed his layers before shrugging into the coat. 

Shiro’s heart lurches further up into his throat when he sees it pull taut over his shoulders. “Oh,” he says, voice strained. “You’re— I didn’t account for how much you’d grow while I’m up here.” 

“It’s great,” Keith says immediately, ever-reassuring. The jacket comes up too high against his waist rather than settling at his hips and the sleeves don’t reach down to his wrists. Shiro’s about to apologize, watching Keith study the coat, but then Keith looks up, smiling, and says, “I love it. Thanks.” 

Shiro swallows back the apology. There’s so much more that he wants to say. He wants to study every inch of Keith, to just talk with him about nothing, to float through zero-g and study the stars together. He wants to hold Keith in his arms, feeling Keith squeeze him back. He wants to watch Keith whip through the desert, his new jacket hugged tight around his chest to stave off the evening bite of cold. 

But time is out. The Garrison moves like clockwork, after all, and Sanda steps forward with that practical impatience she always commands. It’s time for the classified portion of the mission update and Keith’s not allowed to stay. 

Keith smiles at him, chin tilted and his eyes soft as he looks at him. “See you, Shiro.”

“Happy Birthday,” Shiro answers, smiling. _It’s good to see you,_ he wants to say. Or, _I miss you so much._ Maybe even, _I love you,_ tacking on a _buddy_ at the end just to be safe. 

There isn’t time, though. Keith waves and then turns away, ushered from the room. The lighting’s too bad to tell if Keith looks back at him before he exits the command center. Shiro hopes so. 

It’s strange to think of Keith in the wake of him. Shiro feels upended almost, like he’s lost all sense of upward mobility. A void opens in his chest when the doors shut behind Keith, taking his joy with him. 

He doesn’t know when he’ll next get to talk with Keith. He doubts the Garrison will be so lenient next time, doubts they’ll issue him a similar personal request. Maybe he won’t be able to see Keith again until he returns to Earth— and how much bigger will Keith be then? A year is such a long time. 

Shiro is grateful to be here. He wouldn’t trade this for the world. He knows Keith would never let him trade it, either. But that doesn’t stop Shiro from missing him. 

Shiro finishes his report and turns it over to Sam to finish with his own findings, floating away from the console. His thoughts swim, circling around Keith. 

He remembers that last night on Earth. The way Keith looked at him like there was something more he wanted to say. Shiro’s painfully aware of what he left unsaid to Keith, too. He had plenty of chances to speak with Keith about it, but the time never seemed right.

There’s no easy way to tell your best friend that you might have feelings for him, especially when you’re fresh off a break-up and about to launch into space for over a year. Maybe it was for the best, he reasoned. Even if Keith felt the same way for him— and for all Shiro can tell, it’s very much simply platonic between them— it’d be cruel to ask Keith to wait for a wayward astronaut to return home. And, once home, a grounded pilot who would always wish to return. 

Shiro sighs, floating through the compartments of the ship, feeling as untethered as a high-velocity star. He doesn’t even have anything of Keith’s to accompany him, only the soft rust of his voice humming in his ears, the burn of his eyes as he stared right at Shiro through the camera. 

He’s gotten taller, his shoulders a little broader. He’s less beanpole now, although still willowy. Someday, Shiro thinks, he’ll be even stronger and taller, maybe. His jaw more defined. But his eyes, Shiro’s sure, will always be that same sharp stamp on his face, his hair silky-soft and begging for Shiro’s fingers to run through it. Keith’s smile will always burn right into Shiro’s heart. 

He misses Keith. That ache doesn’t dampen his joy of being out in the stars, but he knows part of his heart was left behind with Keith, held carefully in his capable hands. 

Sometimes, Keith looks at him like he’s always waiting for Shiro to fly away and never return. Maybe that’s something he’ll need to clarify with Keith once he does get home. Maybe they can talk. Maybe Keith wouldn’t be opposed to— 

Wayward thoughts. Shiro sighs as he navigates down the connecting pathway from mission control to living quarters. 

He and the Holts are on a rotating schedule, one person sleeping while the other two remain awake. Shiro’s not scheduled for his own bedtime until a couple hours more, but the ship is on autopilot for the check-in meeting. Shiro takes the moments alone afforded to him as the small mercies they are. Sam and Matt are missing their family, too, Shiro knows, but they have each other. It can be a lot to share a ship with them, friendly if only for the close quarters but not knowing them well enough to ever be as open with them as he is with Keith. 

His thoughts keep circling back to Keith, the way he’d looked standing in the light beneath the camera, his eyes blazing and his smile warm as he looked at Shiro, like Shiro was as magnificent as the stars. He’d looked good even in his ridiculous cadet uniform. The sleeves on the uniform were too short, his pants not as pressed as they should have been, his hair certainly not regulation. 

Shiro loves all that quiet rebellion in Keith, how even in the simplest things he can find a way to stand out. He thinks of how Keith had looked in the cropped leather jacket, too tight over his shoulders but still looking natural and free. Keith is always a fierce force, the eye of a hurricane about to sweep him up in his gales. 

Keith is going to do so many amazing things. Shiro knows it. He can only hope that when it happens, he’s still around to see it. 

His living quarters are spartan. They aren’t allowed personal effects up here, the physics and weight distribution requiring that everything and anything be accounted for in the weight charts. There’s nothing here that really feels like Shiro, like a space meant for him. 

Before Shiro can think much of it, he retreats into his night routine, dressing down and washing up. The shower is the size of a cubby and Shiro holds tight to the hand bar to keep from floating up and hitting his head, letting the recycled water surround him. 

He moves through his routine, washing himself, thinking of how, when he straps into his bed and sleeps, he’ll wake at the start of his day-cycle, how he’ll work through his morning exercises to prevent muscle atrophy, how he’ll run through all safety-checks on the autopilot and issue his report, how he’ll eat breakfast with Matt as Sam sleeps through his night-cycle. 

Maybe someday, he can do all that with Keith onboard, too. Maybe someday, they can fly together.

He thinks of Keith, how he’d stretched out that jacket, his eyes dark as he stared right at Shiro. He can’t recall if Keith ever looked at him so intensely before leaving. Shiro closes his eyes, imagining pulling Keith into that hug he keeps thinking about, burying his nose in Keith’s hair and breathing in slow. 

He can still remember Keith’s scent perfectly. Shiro can’t describe it but he’d know it anywhere, buried in all his sense-memories. Something rich and deep and only Keith. It isn’t cologne or laundry soap or anything like that, but something that Shiro can smell and know he’s home. 

He imagines the way Keith would feel in his arms, more filled out now. Remembers how he’d looked plucking open his uniform coat to slip on the leather jacket. Shiro imagines hugging him, his hand fitting in the small of Keith’s back, drawing him in close. 

Shiro washes himself, surprised to find himself half-hard when his hand glances over his cock. He hasn’t let himself think much of desire while in space— the practicals of getting off in zero-g isn’t as sexy as the fantasy of it— but now he can’t stop thinking about Keith. 

This isn’t a line he’s let himself cross. Shiro takes a shaky breath, his body thrumming like a livewire. He knows he shouldn’t think of it, but he can’t help it.

He imagines Keith leaning against the wall outside the shower door, watching him with that familiar glint of amusement in his eyes. “Didn’t realize you’d missed me that much, Shiro.” 

Shiro practically groans imagining the words, that deep gravel of Keith’s voice, the little curve of his smile that’s at once sweet and knowing, like Keith is perceptive enough to see himself the troublemaker but still can’t believe that Shiro could want him because of it. 

Maybe that’s the way Keith would look at him— shocked to learn the full depth of Shiro’s care for him. Shiro’s eyes close again, palming his cock. It’s a line he’s crossing, but it feels good to touch himself after so long, his thoughts swimming with Keith’s smile. 

“You look good,” Keith would say, wondering and belligerent at once, like he wants to praise him and tease him. Shiro’s fingers curl around his cock, squeezing at the base. 

What would Keith be like in this situation? Shiro knows Keith is inexperienced— he admitted as much one night when they snuck onto the Garrison roof and Keith, blushing, confessed that another cadet had asked him out. _I said no,_ Keith had said quickly while Shiro ignored the way his heart sank. _I’m not— I, uh. I haven’t really done anything like that before._

_Do you like him?_ Shiro had asked. 

Keith had only snorted, shaking his head as his eyes lingered on Shiro’s face before he looked away again. _No. Not him._

“Yeah,” the Keith in his mind says, smiling softer now, his eyes warm. “Only one person I’m wanting right now.” 

There’s no room in this small shower compartment for another person, but Keith is there beside him anyway, closer to eye-level with him now. Shiro tries to picture what Keith would really look like in this moment, his hair slicking over his face as the water surrounds him, his body lithe but strong, his slender hands callused and warm against Shiro’s chest as he rests them there. 

Maybe Keith would kiss him. Keith doesn’t have the experience but he’s also such a quick learner, always eager to be the best. Shiro tries to imagine the feeling of it, of Keith leaning up, using his hands on Shiro’s shoulders as leverage, his mouth slanting against his. He’d be tentative at first then overly enthusiastic, determined and a little sloppy, and Shiro would _love_ it. 

He can’t bite back his groan this time. He strokes himself in earnest, shivering at the thought. 

“Do you like that?” Keith whispers in his ear just before he nips at his jaw. “Shiro?” 

“Keith,” Shiro moans. 

Keith would tilt his head at such a sound, finally hearing the way Shiro says his name, has always said his name. He’d watch as Keith smiles with his whole face, his eyes lit up like all the stars in the cosmic sky, his fingers digging tight against Shiro’s shoulders.

“Shiro,” he’d murmur back and Shiro wonders how he’s ever failed to hear the way Keith says his name, the way he calls to him, too. It’s a cascade of falling stars, the two of them falling together. 

Keith is a beautiful world and Shiro is a moon caught in his orbit. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Shiro isn’t sure. Maybe they were always going to be revolving each other. 

Keith has always looked at him like this, has always said his name like this. 

“ _Oh,_ ” Shiro whispers, the word catching in his throat. “You like me back.” 

“Took you long enough to notice,” Keith says in his ear, ever ready to tease. His smile is wicked but unbearably sweet, his eyes far too soft. Shiro doesn’t want to open his eyes and lose the image of Keith like this, wet and aching and standing so, so close to him. Shiro tries to imagine it’s Keith’s hand around his cock. 

Keith would be more impatient, Shiro thinks. Keith would stroke him too fast one moment only to remember himself and go slower the next. He’d want to treat Shiro tenderly, he thinks, but his thoughts would run away from him— he’d get ahead of himself, overly excited to finally touch him like this. Shiro thumbs at the slit of his cock, imagining the way Keith would swirl his fingers slowly, his hand corkscrewing up the full length of Shiro’s cock. 

Shiro wishes he were back on Earth, if only for a moment, if only so he could surround himself in Keith— the scent of him, the sigh of his breath, the perfect curve of his kiss. He knows Keith so well and yet there are still so many things he _doesn’t_ know. He wants to discover it all.

Shiro wonders what it would feel like to run his fingers through Keith’s hair, to cradle the back of his neck and tilt his chin up to kiss him properly, to show him just the way Shiro likes it. He wonders what it would feel like to chase Keith through a kiss, to learn what makes him sigh. He tries to imagine what it’d be like to touch him, to strip him down until they go tumbling into bed together, naked and exploratory, trembling and tensing through their mutual pleasure. He wants to indulge the feeling of his body against Keith’s, the way Keith would look above him or inside him, the way it’d feel to spread Keith’s legs and make space for himself, the both of them keening quietly through the joy of it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Shiro?” Keith would ask once they part from their first kiss. The Keith in the shower with him whispers it against his jaw. It makes Shiro shiver. “Did you think I’d refuse you? _You_ , Shiro?” 

Shiro shakes his head. He aches to reach out and touch Keith. He tries again to pretend the hand around his cock is Keith’s, exploratory and worshipful. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, trying the word out. 

But it’s not right. No, not that. 

“Darling,” he tries instead but that sounds wrong on his tongue, too. 

Keith flits away from him, fading out like a shadow.

“Keith,” he groans, and Keith returns to him, nails kissing over his skin and leaving him shivering. “Baby—” 

Keith’s breath hitches in his ear and he groans. “Yeah.” 

And, yeah, that’s what they both want— _Baby. Baby. Baby—_

“I’d make you feel good, baby,” Shiro whispers, his voice sounding punched-out. He’s stroking himself too fast now, friction and desire building through him, his body aching for the pleasure of it. 

“Would you show me what you like?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d—” 

“I’d make you feel good, too,” Keith murmurs, his voice silky and promising. “Make up for lost time.” 

“Yes,” Shiro gasps. “Make you forget I was ever gone—” 

Keith chuckles, fingertips tracing over the lines of Shiro’s body, following the flow of his muscles, the dips of his abs and the flex of his belly, fingertips brushing through pubic hair and down, tracing over his hips and inner thighs and balls, each touch fleeting and frictionless and leaving Shiro panting and squirming. He pumps his hand faster. 

“I bet you’re beautiful even when you come,” Keith says and there’s that tease again, like he wants to be angry with Shiro but can only sound fond. That’s how Keith often sounds when he talks with him. 

“You too,” Shiro says. “Nobody else has ever seen you like that, right?” 

Keith laughs. “Why, you the jealous type?” 

Maybe Shiro is. He wraps one hand around Keith’s hip and yanks him in closer, Keith’s laughter ringing through the tiny shower stall like a crisp bell. Keith looks good, hair wet and swept back from his face, rivers of water running over his perfect body. 

His eyes are warm when he looks at Shiro, warm with love and desire. “Show me, Shiro?” 

Keith goes nebulous for a moment, fading in and out of existence. Shiro’s seen glimpses of Keith’s body but nothing he knows by heart. He’s stronger than he looks, scrappy, surprisingly nimble. His smile always looks viscous when he’s in the thick of competition, like he’s ready to literally bite Shiro if it means triumph. 

In Shiro’s fantasy, there’s enough space here for Keith to grin at him and slowly sink down onto his knees, taking Shiro in hand and pumping him before kissing the tip of his cock, swallowing around him. In Shiro’s fantasy, Keith’s a natural at it, pleased when Shiro yanks him in closer by his hair, swallowing him fully without complaint, only delight. In reality and fantasy, Keith would gurgle around the mouthful of him, hands digging hard against Shiro’s thighs. He’d wait for Shiro’s guidance and Shiro would show him what to do only because it’s what Keith wants of him, because he wants to make sure he’s doing it perfectly for Shiro. He’d smile around Shiro’s cock, eyes batting as he looks up at him. He’d be wet and warm and _perfect_. 

It’s that thought that brings Shiro to the edge, tipping over it with a cry of Keith’s name, come spilling out from the tip of his cock, his fingers squeezing tight around the full length of himself. He comes with Keith’s smiling lips wrapped around him, swallowing him down. 

But Keith disappears immediately in the wake of it and Shiro’s left with a rippling orgasm and panting breath, surrounded by water and come and a growing headache to match his heartache. He’s grateful that the water recycler is sophisticated enough that there won’t be any awkward questions from the Holts when it empties. Shiro slams the release button and the water’s whipped from the compartment and replaced with the fresh wave. 

Shiro’s left trembling in the aftermath, aware of the line he’s crossed— to imagine his friend in such a compromising position. He stares at the wall. Shiro isn’t one for shame and he can’t quite summon it here, either. Keith flits in his mind’s eye like a shadow’s afterimage, almost there but not quite. 

Shiro aches for the real thing. 

_You like me back,_ he thinks and thinks and thinks. Testing its weight, uncertain if it can be true. But the longer he fiddles with the thought, the more real it feels. 

Keith doesn’t look at anybody else the way he does Shiro. Shiro tries to picture the way Keith would look if Shiro were to say that he loves him— and his stupid, betraying heart kicks up in his chest imagining the burst of Keith’s smile. 

He wants to believe Keith would give it a chance. 

_When I come home,_ he thinks, imagining Keith down on Earth waiting for him. The thought makes him smile, hope blooming wide in his chest. 152 days. 248 to go. _Yeah… I’ll tell Keith when I come home._

**Author's Note:**

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